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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25285744">Burning Through The Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_stardust/pseuds/dead_stardust'>dead_stardust</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Fire Inside You [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Castlevania (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adrie's identity isn't important to this fic but it's mentioned, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Backstory, Bad Flirting, Bisexual Adrian Tepes, Bisexual Trevor Belmont, Codrii Speakers, Crushes, Diary/Journal, F/M, Flirting, Grief/Mourning, Identity Issues, Magic Mirrors, Multi, Panic Attacks, Pre-Relationship, Real Sypha Lore HoursTM, Storytelling, The author of the journals... MY MOTHER, Trans Alucard | Adrian Vlad Tepes | Arikado Genya, Trans Male Character, Unrequited Crush, World Travel, identity crisis, oh yeah arn has a crush on sypha too but that's not a big focus of this fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:55:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25285744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_stardust/pseuds/dead_stardust</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After her grandfather's death and the passing of her mother's encrypted journal to her, Sypha Belnades employs the help of her two boyfriends and her best friend to find her father.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Fire Inside You [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Reconnection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I finished the journal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sypha stood at the table at the inn she, her traveling partners, and the Codrii caravan were staying at. Trevor, Adrian, and Arn all sat together, eating lunch. Sypha had just come downstairs from her room, clasping two books in her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Trevor asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to show the three of you in private,” she continued. “Once you’re done eating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I’ve had my fill,” Arn said. He looked over at Trevor and Adrian.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll bring the rest of my food up,” Adrian said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think this place has room service?” Trevor asked. “I’m still hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three went upstairs as Sypha began to explain. “My mother’s journal was mostly recipes and ailments. Between each one, she wrote a letter to my father. They’re all dated one day in succession, leading up to my birth, where it stops,” she said, sitting down on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father’s full name is Felice Pellegrino, and he’s from the Kingdom of Venezia,” Sypha said. “And my name was to be Patricia Pellegrino.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patricia Pellegrino…” Arn mused. “It’s a cute name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want us to call you that?” Adrian asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I am a Belnades at heart and I love the name my grandfather gave to me,” Sypha said. “But I would like to meet my father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you suppose you do that? It’s not like we can find him easily. Asking just some random person for Felice Pellegrino will bring up nothing,” Trevor said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The distance mirror, you idiot,” Adrian said. “The one in your family hold. Hell, there’s definitely one in the castle, but you got lost last time we were there and I don’t trust you running around the castle on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I guess we’ll have to go back,” Trevor said. “I don’t mind. Wouldn’t mind seeing that place again, especially if it’s not under duress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really indulging me on this?” Sypha asked, holding her mother’s journal to her chest. “I don’t know if he’s even alive, and yet-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sypha, the hold isn’t too far from here. A day’s journey at best,” Trevor said. “We can get there by tomorrow if we leave now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can go get the wagon ready,” Arn offered. “I’m coming with. You can’t keep me away from your adventures this time. No magical prophecy this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure your mother would be okay with that?” Sypha asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m an adult, Sypha. I can make my own decisions. And I think she’d sleep a bit better knowing that you’re in good hands,” Arn said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You mean she’d feel better if she knew you were being protected by me,” Sypha laughed. She gave her friend a hug. “If you really want to come, I won’t stop you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get everything ready,” Arn said, before leaving the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the Speaker got out of earshot, Adrian asked “We’re really bringing him along?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my best friend,” Sypha said. “He’s like a big brother to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a good idea, Syph,” Trevor said. “Do you see the way he looks at you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m used to it,” Sypha sighed. “My first kiss was with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is an awful idea,” Adrian said. “This is an absolutely awful idea.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So, you’re the guy who Sypha went looking for,” Arn said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Trevor led the covered wagon out of town, Sypha, Adrian, and Arn sat in the back. Sypha leaned on her dhampir lover, flicking through her mother’s translated journal as the boys talked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Son of Dracula and all that. Unlike my father, I don’t share his hatred of humanity, I promise,” Adrian said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re safe around him,” Sypha promised, snuggling closer to Adrian. “He won’t bite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you try to attack me, Trevor, or Sypha, you will answer to my blade,” the dhampir said. He hissed quietly, baring his fangs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arn scooted back, tucking his knees to his chest, causing Adrian to laugh. “I-I’ve sworn an oath of nonviolence. It is not the Speaker’s way to fight unless against true evil,” he said. “I have a knife if I am in a bind, but it has never spilt blood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did all Speaker bloodlust get transferred into Sypha, then?” Trevor asked from the head of the wagon. “She’s brutal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m essentially the guard of our caravan,” Sypha said. “Though in my absence, I assume Isabel is taking up that role?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If necessary, yes,” Arn said. “But you know how she is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think she should retire,” Sypha nodded. “Find a nice little village and a husband, settle down and all. All this traveling is too hard on her lungs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two chatted for a bit while Adrian crossed his arms, watching how Arn talked and interacted with his fellow Speaker. The two were so animated, so lively as they chatted about the caravan and old stories that they had absorbed over the years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Arn, Sypha, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>Speaker life like?” Adrian finally asked. “What are the customs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two looked at him, then looked at each other. “Where to start?” Arn laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Speakers are either born into their caravan or they join at an adult age,” Sypha said. “It seems like I pretty much was born into it, and Arn definitely was. He was, quite literally, born in the back of a moving wagon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama never told me why they didn’t stop and set up camp for that day. Anyway, there’s an emphasis on repetition and memorization throughout childhood,” Arn said. “One is brought up to repeat information and tell stories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our caravan has the three stories rule,” Sypha said. “I’m not sure if other sects did that, but ours does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my!” Arn laughed. “I hated that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You used to be so bad at it!” Sypha giggled. “Remember when Rolando kept trying to get you to tell Dante’s Inferno and you kept messing up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s so long!” Arn snickered. “He was so mad!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the three stories rule?” Adrian asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every night, the children - anyone under fifteen - would gather around in the back wagon and would tell three stories, repeating it three times. The designated teacher adult would be the first person to tell a story, and then two of the kids would have to repeat it,” Sypha said. “Then it would repeat with two more stories. One day… One day-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say it,” Arn groaned, putting his head in his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One day, Arn had- what did you do to piss him off so much? Oh, Rolando was so angry at you!” Sypha laughed. “Rolando was our teacher when we were… I think I was nine and Arn was just turning eleven. Arn had pissed him off somehow, and Rolando made him do all sorts of errands all day. We had stopped in a town and Arn had to do all the dirty work, cleaning up the wagons and replacing bedding and everything, and then - ohoho, he was in for it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“During the three stories, Rolando made me recite Beowulf to lead the storytime,” Arn groaned. “Didn’t even tell it first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And of course, what happened?” Sypha asked, propping her head up on her hand as she smiled smugly at Arn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Speaker mumbled something under his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, I don’t think Adrian heard you!” Sypha giggled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My hearing is better than a normal human’s,” Adrian said. “But maybe you should repeat it for Trevor to hear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...you retold it perfectly…” Arn muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry?” Sypha asked, cupping her ear. “What did I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...you interrupted me and retold it word for word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what happened after, Arnie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened next was bullshit and you know it!” Arn argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rolando made Arn give me his dessert for the night,” Sypha laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all got candy from this little shop we had stopped in a few days before. Elder Belnades bought enough for each of the kids to have one candy a night for the next four days, and I had to give up my candy for that day,” Arn pouted. “I’m still mad over that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fifteen years ago! </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>mad?!” Sypha wheezed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fifteen years,” Adrian said. “And you were nine, Sypha? God, I was barely two when that happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arn paused, looking at Adrian with utter bewilderment. “You’re seventeen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to explain to you about how the passage of time works?” Adrian asked.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The four reached the Tepes castle and Belmont hold by nightfall. After passing the magic barrier that shielded the castle from any unwanted view, set up by Sypha before they left, Arn stared up in awe at the ancient edifice. “This was your father’s castle?” Arn asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It’s all locked up under a magic lock and key,” Adrian said. “Sypha found these clever little spells that would protect it from any squatters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I knew magic,” Arn pouted. “My mother was too afraid I’d hurt myself. Especially after-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say it!” Sypha yelled. “Don’t you dare!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh come on, if you get to tell the Beowulf story, then I get to tell you friends about how you did the thing!” Arn complained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let him tell the story, Syph,” Trevor laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sypha once set me on fire,” Arn said. “Isabel was teaching her different fire spells and Sypha ran over to me to show off, and she set my robes on fire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I was sorry,” Sypha blushed. “Your mother was so mad at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was going to beat the shit out of your grandfather,” Arn laughed. “Right after she was done wringing Isabel’s neck.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>After a hearty dinner of grilled eggplants and soup, prepared by Sypha and Arn, the four went up to the residential area of the castle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This place is enormous,” Arn breathed. “I know castles in general are big, but if this place was filled with people, it could rival cities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then call this castle a ghost town,” Adrian said. “So, I have spare pajamas that you can borrow, and Trevor can take one of my father’s, since mine would be too small. Sypha, if you don’t mind, I have an old nightgown of my mother’s around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four got situated in their rooms. The hunter, magician, and soldier lay in the master bed while the second scholar had a small room to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sypha sat up in bed, sparking up a tiny flame in her fingertips as she analyzed her journal. “Patricia, huh?” The woman mumbled to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel more comfortable being called that?” Adrian asked from the other side of Trevor. The two men were arm-in-arm with each other, with Adrian resting his head on Trevor’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m just curious. What if my mother hadn’t been discovered as a witch? What then?” Sypha asked. “Besides me not being a Speaker, would I have been a witch too? Would my father live with my mother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once we find your father, we’ll ask him,” Adrian promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I’m not sure if I want to meet him,” Sypha said carefully. “If I had been raised by him and my mother, I wouldn’t have met my grandfather. I wouldn’t have met Arn, probably. Not to mention the two of you.” She reached out, playing with Trevor’s bangs before stroking Adrian’s cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can meet him and still be with us,” Trevor said. “You don’t have to change a thing about yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess.” She put down the journal and snuggled up under the blankets, resting her head on Trevor’s chest next to Adrian’s as she moved her leg to wrap around Trevor’s body. “Are you two uncomfortable with Arn tagging along?” She touched Adrian’s leg with her foot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a bit wary that he’ll try to make a move on you,” Adrian said as he kicked her back playfully. “Your feet are always so cold!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not jealous, are you?” Sypha asked. “He won’t steal me away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trevor kind of did,” Adrian said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love both of you equally,” Sypha promised. She reached out and took Adrian’s hand. “Trev only sleeps in the middle because he’s a big baby if he’s not next to both of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Trevor grunted. “I am not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You very much are,” Adrian smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sypha felt her heart’s beating in her ears, echoing across her whole body as her anxiety boiled. “But I… I’ve been thinking. Maybe I should rejoin the caravan. Or- I think I want to follow the path of my mother. My magic is something I want to hone and use, not hide. Should I…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you still love us, Sypha?” Trevor asked, looking down at her with concern. “You-You know we can’t follow you down those paths, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m just asking!” Sypha promised. “I understand- Look, I… I can go… I’ll go sleep in another room.” The Speaker got up, grabbing her journal. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Syph,” Trevor said. “Don’t do this. Come back to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going,” she said. “I’m sorry.” The redhead rushed out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind herself. She pressed her back against the wall and slid to the ground, holding the journal to her chest. Bile rose up in her throat as her eyes puffed up in tears. The woman jumped up and rushed off to the bathroom, then splashed water on her face. She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to discern her wild eyes in the low light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sypha looked up to see Arn in the doorway, carrying a candle. “I’m fine,” she lied as her throat closed up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you crying?” Arn asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nervous,” she croaked. “I’m so nervous. About everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re on the cusp of something really life changing. It’s natural to be nervous,” Arn said. “But you don’t need to cry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure if I love Trevor and Adrian,” Sypha blurted out. “Or if I should even be a Speaker anymore. If I should even try to find my father. I’m wondering if I should just… I don’t know. Run away. Let everyone forget I existed. I want to use my magic but if I do so, I’ll be murdered like my mother and Adrian’s mother and Trevor’s family.” She sat down next to the sink, tucking her knees to her chest. “I can’t live as I want to. I should just run and hide, not let anyone know I ever lived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that it’s a bit too late for you to be making any rash decisions,” Arn said. “Maybe you should go to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman looked him up and down as her eyes welled with tears. “I don’t know, Arn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think about it,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “Just think through everything all well and good before you make any rash decisions.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>She didn’t wake up until the sun was high in the sky, and didn’t even bother to put on her robes. Sypha found herself swallowing more bile, feeling her stomach churn as she went down to the lounge. The boys were sitting around. Arn and Adrian were both flipping through books as Trevor sat back with his eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Adrian said as Sypha entered the room. “I found a small distance mirror that we can bring along. My father had quite a few, but this one is portable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We haven’t used it yet,” Arn added. “Well, besides some test runs, just searching for different things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t look for your father,” Trevor clarified, opening an eye. “That honor belongs to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just get this over with,” she said. She approached the ornate box sitting on the study table. “How do you command it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clap your hands together and say your request. It’s not very picky,” Adrian said. “Just make sure to say please, or the vision quality will be awful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, Sypha?” Trevor asked as he and Arn gathered near Sypha and Adrian. “You seem upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disregarding her partner’s words, Sypha opened the box and clapped her hands together, watching the glass shards of the distance mirror come together. “Please show me my father, Felice Pellegrino.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Mirror</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sypha and the crew travel to Italy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The mirror warbled and the reflection of the four was replaced with the view of a middle-aged man. Tan skin, wavy brown hair that reached a little past the nape of his neck, and the same wide blue eyes that his daughter had. He wore the garb of a more upper class person. Not quite nobility, but not that of common folk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrian, that’s our future father-in-law,” Trevor joked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut it,” the dhampir said, shooting a glare at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sypha stared into the mirror as she watched her father move to speak to someone else. “That’s my father,” she said. She clapped her hands together again. “Show me where he is, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mirror pulled back, showing a city situated on rivers, near the ocean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian’s eyes lit up. “Venezia! I recognize that fountain! Oh, I was there as a child,” he said. “My father took me and my mother, shortly after I had my surgery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surgery?” Trevor scoffed. “Since when did you have </span>
  <em>
    <span>surgery?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“To remove my breast tissue,” Adrian said. “One of the members of my father’s war council lives near there. We stayed in their castle for about a week. Mother and I went out during the daytime-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can talk about your vacation later,” Trevor said. “Venezia, huh? Would take us about a week’s journey. Very doable. We have the supplies. Just need to pack. Sypha, we can leave tomorrow if we pack now. How’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman stared at the bustling city, watching the people walk around like a bird staring at the ants below its feathers. “We’ll leave tonight,” she said. “I don’t want to waste any time.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The crew got the wagon ready by dinner time, but decided to forego the meal in exchange for traveling for at least a few hours of daylight. As Trevor and Arn sat up front, Sypha sat in the back with Adrian, staring into the distance mirror, watching her father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched Felice enter a house, and breathed a sigh of relief when no wife or children rushed to his side, only a calico cat. The man knelt down and pet the cat behind her ears, then lit a fire in his fireplace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think he’ll remember my mother?” Sypha asked. Her voice was low and monotonous, barely above a whisper. “It’s been nearly twenty-five years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure he’d have remembered an old flame that cared for him so much that she’d write love ballads about him,” Adrian said. “Once you tell him you’re the daughter of Rosita, perhaps he’ll remember your mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, her journal ends shortly after I was born,” Sypha said. “She was a new mother when she was executed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s awful,” Adrian said. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it’s sort of like your mother, right?” Sypha asked. “Except my mother truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a witch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And both of Trevor’s parents were accused of the same thing. Funny,” Adrian laughed. “I wonder if that’s why the three of us came together. Though we come from vastly different backgrounds, we have the same experiences, in a way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose.” Sypha put the mirror away and moved to lay down under some furs. “I’m going to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need a pillow?” Adrian asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian switched forms to a white-gold furred wolf and curled up around Sypha. He sniffed at her as she laid her head on his body. He curled up, enveloping her in his fur, snuggling his snout up to her chest. Her heartbeat thumped in his ear, accompanied by a rapid, soft beating that came from somewhere lower in the body. Strange, he had never heard Sypha’s heart like that. He lifted his head up and shook his head, whining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, boy?” Trevor asked. “Someone need tummy rubs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Arn hissed, scooting close to Trevor and away from Adrian. “Oh dear Lord what the hell-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, forgot to mention that he can do that,” Trevor said as he tried pushing Arn down from his lap. “Get off of me! Hey, Adrian, you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian responded to the other two with a half howl that morphed into a whine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet,” Sypha muttered, snuggling closer to him. “Lay down, boy.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The wagon stopped an hour after nightfall. Sypha was fast asleep against Adrian, who was still awake. Trevor parked the wagon and got to work setting up camp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian turned back into his human form and wiggled out from under Sypha. He joined the other two men outside. “I think she’s ill,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She threw up earlier,” Trevor nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But none of us are ill. Hopefully we don’t catch what she has. I’m wondering if she’s nervous,” Arn said. He looked up at the other two. “She seems so off. Was she this… hazy when she was on the journey with the two of you? When she was back with the caravan, she was always so sound of mind, for lack of a better word.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. She was sarcastic, level-headed for the most part…” Trevor said as he chewed on a chunk of dried meat. “She’s definitely not processing the Elder’s death well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrian bit his bottom lip. “I…” The dhampir sighed, thinking about Sypha’s irregular heartbeat. He had listened to the beats of his partners after they were in distress, as they were calming down, as they were excited, and this was nothing like any of those scenarios. “I- yes, that’s probably the case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something on your mind?” Arn asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just thinking,” he replied. “I’m worried for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hopefully meeting her father should ease her mind,” Trevor said. “Getting closure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” Arn nodded. “It’s late. Should we get to sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to,” Trevor said as he laid out a few furs and spread out on one. “Adrie, your spot’s ready for you. Arn, you can use whatever blankets you’d like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” the Speaker replied. He made his own bed as Trevor and Adrian snuggled together, and put out the fire. He stared as the two men were entangled with one another, Adrian resting his head on Trevor’s chest as the Belmont looked up at the stars above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you want to join us?” Trevor snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? No. Er- it’s cold. You two seem very warm,” Arn laughed nervously as a blush spread across his face, before curling up under a blanket. “I’m used to sleeping in a pile of people. It feels nice, being alone for once. I could get used to this.” He sighed and rolled over on his side. “Good night, you two.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>As the dawn broke, Sypha stumbled out of the wagon, yawning and stretching, to see her two partners cuddled around her best friend, all fast asleep under a big blanket. She smiled and started up the campfire, deciding to prepare breakfast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cracked open a few eggs onto a pan, but the scent hit her in the back of the throat, causing her stomach to churn. Something about it was too powerful. She jumped up and ran behind a tree, retching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first to awaken was Trevor, sniffing the aroma of the eggs that were being fried. “Syph.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Sypha said as she returned. She grabbed a leather pouchette of water and downed a swig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m stuck,” Trevor grunted. He patted Arn’s head with his hand. “He’s got me in a grip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just pry him off. He’s a heavy sleeper,” Sypha said, poking at the eggs. “Or wake him. I want to get back on the road soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trevor slunk out from under Arn and Adrian, then sat down by Sypha. “How’s your stomach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I threw up again,” Sypha muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t coming down with anything, are you?” Trevor asked. “We’re worried that you caught some sort of bug.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s because of the smell,” she said. “I hope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two sat back, watching the sun bathe the trees in its morning light, as they prepared breakfast. Soon, Adrian and Arn were both awake and the four ate their fill, then set back on the road.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The team arrived at the Italian Peninsula six days later, right on time as Trevor predicted. Every day, Sypha kept track of her father by watching him through the mirror, seeing his day-to-day activities. He lived on the edge of a town near Venezia, as the four later discovered upon a full day of Sypha watching his routine, though he did travel into town each day for work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They entered the town by noon on the seventh day of traveling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we find lunch?” Trevor asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to find my father,” Sypha said, clutching the distance mirror’s holding box and both her mother’s original journal and her translation to her chest. “I don’t even have to use this mirror anymore. I can just ask around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a bit hungry,” Arn said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Adrian said. He put a hand on Sypha’s shoulder, over her scar that was inflicted by his own father. “I’ll join you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess meet us here by sundown if Arn and I can’t find you two sooner?” Trevor asked. “I’ll find us an inn to stay at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like a plan,” Adrian said as Sypha began to walk off. “Hey! Wait for me!”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The two walked around the city, asking every shopkeep, every fisherman, every traveler about Felice Pellegrino. A few of them recognized the man, saying that they had met him before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He bought some food from me earlier,” a grocer said. “About… two hours ago, I’d say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Sypha muttered. “Any idea where he’d be now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grocer shrugged. “I know he comes by here before he leaves town for the day. Not to my stall, but in the plaza here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should wait,” Adrian said. “Get lunch first, find Trevor and Arn, and wait back here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could take hours,” Sypha said. She pulled Adrian over to a spare table outside of a cafe and set the distance mirror’s box on it. She clapped her hands together and requested the image of her father once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice was seen outside of an inn, right as the door flung open and a man in a large coat with fur plating stepped out, followed by a Speaker. He bumped into the man and fell to the ground-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s Trevor,” Adrian said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Sypha muttered. She threw the mirror back into the box. “Adrian, track him! We need to go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier and the magician ran through the town, trying to find the inn that they saw Trevor at. “Please, Trevor, please recognize him,” Sypha muttered to herself over and over as she and Adrian ran through the streets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flash of blue robes around a corner caught Sypha’s eye. She grabbed Adrian’s hand and yanked him down the street as she could’ve sworn she saw Arn! They turned, seeing Sypha’s fellow Speaker walk to a hulking figure in a fur coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Trevor!” Adrian yelled as he wrenched his hand from Sypha’s iron grip, the woman having ran ahead of him. The hunter turned, revealing an upper-class man with dark hair behind him. “Where’s-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rosita?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Originally this chapter was going to have a scene with Arn cuddling with the other boys but my boyfriend said it's a bit too self-indulgent.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Listener</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sypha hears the story about how her father met her mother.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sypha stopped as she skidded to a halt by Trevor and the stranger. Tan skin, long dark hair, blue eyes. The woman’s stomach turned as anxiety bubbled up. “A-Are you Felice?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me, it’s me, dear,” he said, sweeping Sypha up in a hug. The man began to cry, squeezing the Speaker and giving her a kiss on the head. “Dear God, how did this happen? It’s been twenty-five years! How did you find me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m not Rosita,” she said, pulling back. “I’m her daughter - </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>daughter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice examined the woman’s face, erupting into a laugh. “I-I can see it now! She- Rosita has a little birthmark right here,” he said as he cupped Sypha’s face, pressing his thumb by her cheekbone. “You look just like her. Minus the birthmark, but- same face, same eyes, same hair! Wow! I- wait, what did she name you? I-I knew she was pregnant, but I had to leave and- I- I thought she and the baby died! Her home was all cinder and ash when I got there!” The man ran a hand through his hair as he caught his breath, looking away then back at his daughter’s smiling face. “I can’t believe it. What happened? Where is she? Did she send you to find me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Sypha,” she said. “Well, originally I was- We-we should sit down. I feel so nervous. I didn’t eat all day, and this is a long story…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know this one place. We’ll get dinner, huh? I haven’t eaten yet. My treat, uh… Sofia, you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sypha, you’re close,” she laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice laughed and hugged his daughter once more.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So, these are your traveling partners, huh?” Felice asked as the group of five were sitting down at a tavern. “A-Are you a Speaker? Your robes are destroyed, but this young man’s is fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a long story,” Sypha said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We killed Dracula,” Trevor said. “No big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice’s jaw dropped open. “Really. You killed Dracula.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Group effort between the three of us,” Adrian said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had nothing to do with it. Sypha’s a hero, all three of them are,” Arn said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice nodded and looked between the three men. “Pardon my line of questioning, but… which- which one of these two are you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>involved </span>
  </em>
  <span>with?” The man asked, pointing between Trevor and Arn. “Not her, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrian’s a man, sir!” Sypha said as Trevor wheezed, nearly falling over. Adrian’s cheeks were a bright red as he pouted and muttered something about not looking like a girl. “I’ll tell you about it later. I want to hear about you and my mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice sighed and rested his head on his hand. “She was wonderful. Where to start? She was the smartest person I’ve ever met. Saved my life, that girl.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The young salesman’s day was going great, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>great, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as he trudged through a dense Spanish forest. First he got robbed of the spices he was planning on selling, then his horse got spooked at lunchtime and ran off into a river, now Felice found himself without direction with the last of his product dragging behind him. The evening sun was barely seen peeking past the treeline. Sunset would be soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice sighed, pulling along his knapsack. His back and arms ached. The man quickly found empathy for his horse, hoping that the young mare was happy with her new life running around the countryside instead of lugging around his wares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half an hour later, and the last light of the day went out. “Fucking amazing!” Felice yelled, kicking the ground. “Absolutely perfect! What a wonderful day, huh?! Going out for a walk, exercising a bit, how fun! How </span>
  <em>
    <span>lovely! </span>
  </em>
  <span>What a beautiful fucking day.” The man groaned. He stopped and sat down, grabbing the only blanket he was able to salvage out from his bag. “Might as well just set up camp now. Who gives a shit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man lit a fire and sat beside it for a while. He dug through the rest of his stock, finding only the cheapest of supplies in his knapsack. He tossed the bag aside, not finding a single scrap of food or any worthwhile wares inside. Felice cursed once more and sat back, staring into the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The exhaustion of the day set in as his blue eyes fluttered shut. As his chin fell to his chest and his breathing slowed, his brain shut out the world around him, and Felice soon fell asleep…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The breaking of some twigs stirred Felice. He didn’t bother opening his eyes. It had to be a deer or a rabbit or something. He shook it off and tried falling asleep once more…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The growling pulsed in his ears. Felice opened one eye, only to be greeted by a creature as black as a void, with a gaping maw full of razor teeth and leathery wings beating against the air. The man screamed, scrambling away, but the creature grabbed him by his ankle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice was thrown through the air by the beast, hitting his ribs against a tree trunk. Dazed, he could barely push himself to his feet before the beast lashed out once more, piercing his arm with its teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fireball struck the side of the creature and threw it off of the man. He looked up to see a woman bathed in the orange glow of a spell she was charging up, before she fired it off again at the creature. It yelped and ran off, squeaking in pain from the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Travelers always get themselves into trouble… And it’s always </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>problem...” The woman muttered to herself. She lowered her flames, enough for Felice to make out her features. She had light hair tied up at the crown of her head in a bun and held back with a headband, and donned a blue dress with an apron pouch on the front. She knelt down and took Felice’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “You’ll need to get this cleaned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he gasped. “My name is Felice Pellegrino, and I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” the woman said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, may I at least know your name?” Felice asked, limping to her side. He didn’t bother retrieving the rest of his wares. They were worthless, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rosita,” the woman replied bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rosita…” he tried leading her on, trying to get a last name out of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Rosita,” she said. As they exited the forest, a cabin on the edge of the woods could be seen, a distance away from a small town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we, anyway? I got lost,” Felice laughed. “I’m trying to travel along the coast to Murcia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re on the way,” she said. “Closest city is Valencia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice stuck his hands inside his pockets, whistling as he limped alongside Rosita. “My horse ran away on me. And I got robbed by highwaymen. All of my shipment is gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Must be awful,” the woman muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lost all my money that I had on me,” he continued. “I’ve only got the clothes on my back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can stay in my spare room for the night,” the woman sighed. She swung open the door to the cabin and lit a few candles as Felice helped himself to sitting down in a chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice place,” he said, examining the interior. Dried plants hung from a grate on the ceiling, scrolls piled up in a corner, glass bottles containing all sorts of oddities were scattered on a bookshelf, and a cauldron sat atop a fire. “In the middle of dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rosita sighed and grabbed the ladle, stirring the pot a bit, then poured some of the concoction in a bowl and set it in front of Felice. She then went to a drawer and grabbed a bottle of clear liquid and some bandages, then soaked a rag in a bucket of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Felice said as he ate the soup. “Nice place you’ve got here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a mess,” Rosita said as she washed Felice’s wound. “If I knew I’d be having guests, I’d have cleaned up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, are you a doctor?” Felice asked. “I sell all sorts of medicines if you need a stock.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a scholar,” she replied. “My field of study is plant life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need any samples? I bring plants from all over Europe and from various countries in the north of Africa. Sometimes Asia as well. I have connections,” Felice grinned. “I mean, I’d have to go home and then return, but I… I’ll need to get my stock back anyway. I meant to deliver a shipment but then I lost my wares.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have all the plants I need,” Rosita said. As she bandaged up his arm, she asked “Actually… I’d need ginseng. I’ll pay you as much gold as it takes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice bit his lip. “Nah, it’d be payment for you helping me out like this,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you’re sure,” Rosita said. She finished tying up the bandages. “How soon can you get it to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, a little over a month? Two? It took me two weeks to get here. I’ve got to get home to Napoli, get my stock, get a new horse and cart, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>find </span>
  </em>
  <span>the ginseng, then come all the way back. I don’t have any issue with that. Until I got attacked, I was having a lovely day,” Felice said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you were,” Rosita rolled her eyes. She poured herself a bowl of soup and sat down at the other side of the table. “Do you think you’ll need any supplies to get home? I can’t give you any money but I can send you off with some food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure I’ll be able to get some gold,” he said, resting his head on his hand and raising his eyebrows. “People say my charms know no bounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure they do,” Rosita said. She stirred her soup before taking a sip, watching as the man she let into her home sloppily scooped up his soup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you get into researching plant life?” Felice asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s what my mother did,” Rosita said. “She introduced me to it. How did you get into selling plants?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not just plants. Well, it’s mostly herbs, but also fabrics and other luxuries. Sometimes musical instruments,” Felice said. “I’m an expert in bartering as well as playing the lyre. Sweet-talk their makers into selling low, sometimes accompanied by a song, then sell them for their true value.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds an awful lot like stealing,” Rosita said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I need to make money, don’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So do the craftsmen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice bit his lip and looked away. “I rarely do that anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really?” Rosita asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...I mean, it’s my father that does,” Felice said. “I work for him. I still do all of the bartering! He depends on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Felice asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not laughing,” Rosita said. She hid her smile behind another sip of soup. “You’d hear me if I was laughing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re laughing on the inside. That’s what matters,” Felice said, patting his chest.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>After the meal, Rosita showed Felice to her side room, where a bed stuffed with straw was surrounded by overflowing bookshelves. There was barely any room for one person to stand in there, and thus the two of them together put them nearly on top of each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t wander around my house in the middle of the night. Respect my privacy and I’ll respect your bodily integrity,” Rosita said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a joke,” Rosita said. She opened a hatch on the roof, causing a ladder to fall, and climbed up. “I’ll be in the loft. Just call up if you need me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, Señorita Rosita,” Felice laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night,” the woman said, pulling the ladder up with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice sighed and stretched before throwing himself down on the bed. Two weeks sleeping in the back of a wagon and under trees was nice, and he always appreciated the closeness with nature, but a nice, warm bed and a roof over his head was a welcome feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, sleep did not come to him. He stared up at the ceiling as he heard the footsteps of Rosita above him, accompanied by low speaking. Occasionally, after a few stomps, the books on the shelves would be rustled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few more stomps. The book was dislodged, and the book fell square on top of Felice’s head. He sat up, rubbing his forehead, as he held the thick tome. His eyes flickered to the gold leaf reflecting off of the silver moonlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Una Guía De Brujas Para La Nigromancia Avanzada.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A Witch’s Guide to Advanced Necromancy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice thumbed through the pages to see text written in Latin despite the Spanish title. Letters from an author were written in Spanish between each topic, and handwritten notes were scrawled in the margins, which he deduced were written by Rosita herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he flipped through the book, a piece of paper flittered out from the pages. He caught it and unfolded it. The title read </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Tea to improve connection to the elements” </span>
  </em>
  <span>with the main ingredient being ginseng.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.” Felice stuffed the paper back into the book and sat it back on the shelf. He curled up under the soft blanket, acutely aware that Rosita’s mutterings weren’t in Spanish, but in Latin.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The dawn broke, and Felice was awakened by the clattering of Rosita’s ladder hitting the ground. He shot up, seeing the woman descend the ladder. She paid him no mind as she entered the main part of her cottage. The man got up and followed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, </span>
  <em>
    <span>raggio di sole,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Felice smirked. He saw now that in the natural light of the morning, Rosita had soft ginger hair. It had a few curls and flyaways framing blue-green eyes. Her nose was a small button and her cheeks had a natural blush to it. Her lips had a sweet pink to them as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rosita started a fire and set a tea kettle on top of it. “Mornin’,” she yawned. “How did you sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At first I couldn’t,” Felice shrugged. “What were you doing upstairs? It was loud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m more of a night owl. I had some things to do,” she said. “I’m only up at this ungodly hour because I didn’t want to sleep in while I had a guest. Tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” he said, sitting down at the table. “Whatever you have. I’m not picky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope I didn’t keep you up too much,” she said as she sat down by him. “What with all my activities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m used to more intrusive interruptions. My father snores like a pig,” Felice laughed. He looked around the cottage in the morning light. “How long have you practiced witchcraft?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rosita stared at him with wide blue-green eyes. “How did you-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saved me with a fire spell, remember?” Felice asked. “And I found a book on necromancy on your bookshelf. Well, it found its way to me. By the way, do I have a bruise on my head?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” Rosita said. “Or I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>wring your testicles like a burlap sack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t tell anyone,” Felice said. “Some of my best customers are witches. They’re just sweet ladies doing their own thing, and I’m assuming you’re doing the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not put off by necromancy? It’s an affront to God,” Rosita said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Felice shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “Everyone has loved ones that they want to bring back. If I was smart, I’d try and find a way to bring my mother back. I don’t blame you for wanting to bring someone back. People always go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘Oh, necromancy is only about amassing an army!’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>but you know who I’ve met before? I’ve met this sweet old lady who lost her son, her only child, in a battle that he shouldn’t have been drafted into. Poor lass was distraught beyond belief and only wanted to see her son’s face for one more day. You know what’s an affront to God? This belief that one should die on behalf of the greed of nobility. Doesn’t the Bible advocate for distributing wealth to the poor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never read the Bible. I wouldn’t know,” Rosita said quietly, taking in Felice’s words. She got up as the kettle began to whistle, then poured the two of them some tea. “It’s chamomile. I grew the flowers myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love the stuff,” Felice said, taking his cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really don’t care that I’m a witch,” Rosita said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you’re not harming anyone, what’s wrong with practicing a bit of magic? The way I see it, it’s another customer for me,” Felice said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman smiled and took a sip of her drink. “You said yesterday that you play the lute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lyre. Completely different instrument,” Felice said. “I’m pretty good at it. Been playing it since childhood. My father taught me, said I needed to be occupied with something rather than wasting my free time. Not that I have much. I’m mostly running deliveries for him, but it’s fun to play with the strings while I’m on the road.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m guessing your instrument got stolen, then,” Rosita said as she rested her head on her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was my spare one, thankfully. I have one for on the road and one for at home,” Felice grinned. “The road one is this old one my father gave me. He got it in a deal with some trader from… Arabia, I think?” The man scratched his head. “I dunno. It was already kind of busted up, but it gave my hands something to do when on the road.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad your hands were up to something useful,” Rosita chuckled before sipping her tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Felice’s response only made Rosita laugh harder. “I-I don’t get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are the prettiest ones always the most dull?” Rosita laughed to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Felice smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After breakfast, Rosita helped Felice pack a bag full of supplies. “This should last you until you get to Barcelona, then I expect for you to fend the rest of your way home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Mom,” Felice smirked. Rosita rolled her eyes as Felice continued. “I’ll be back in a month with your shipment of ginseng. Do you need anything else before you forget?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just please don’t tell anyone that I’m a witch,” Rosita said. “I’ll make it worth your while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need any extra payment, really,” Felice said. “I’ll strike a deal with my dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman sighed and pulled him close, then gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Be safe, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-Sure. Of course.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sypha's birth name is Patricia as a little easter egg to an OC I have who's also named Patricia. Their stories are similar as well. Dead mother who uses magic powers, father who's still alive and works in business. Oh also both Sypha and Patricia both have varying but noticeable levels of bloodlust.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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